The Girl Across the Road
by ChickWithThePurpleGuitar
Summary: Lawrence, Kansas held a lot of bad memories for Dean Winchester. His parents fighting. His mother crying. His whole life being taken away in the blink of a sulfur-yellow eye. But the town also held a lot of good memories. His baby brother. The four wonderful years he did have with Mary. But most of all, Lawrence held the memory of Dean's best friend. And her name was Hazel. AU.


**A/N: Hey, guys. Here's a oneshot I wrote forever ago and was too lazy to post. I was talking with my friend one day about my favorite cliche, where a boy and a girl are friends since childhood and then they fall in love, and I realized Dean probably had a best friend in Lawrence before Mary died. So, this is about Dean's best friend Hazel, and it's gonna have sequels cause the ending sucks and it doesn't say half the stuff I wanted it to, but here's part one. I hope you like it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. I co-own Hazel Devon. **

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The Girl Across the Road

The best thing about the girl across the street was that her mom made _really_ good pie.

At first, Dean wasn't sure where his favorite pie came from. It just always seemed to be there. On Dean's birthday, there was pie. At Christmas, there was pie. When Daddy's boss gave him a raise, there was pie, pie, and more pie. But Dean never saw Mommy _making_ the pie. It just sort of showed up. It was always just... there.

When Dean was three-and-a-quarter years old, Mommy showed him who made the pie.

Mommy called her Rosa, but Dean was pretty sure her real name was Hazel's Mommy. She lived across the street, in the big house with the purple windows (Hazel said Dean's house was the little one with the blue walls—Dean didn't think it was that little), with Hazel and Hazel's Daddy (Dean's Mommy called him Jeff. Dean's Daddy called him a boring stick). Hazel was Dean's age, well—almost, anyway. She was actually three-and-a-half, but Dean generously chose to ignore that. Girls weren't allowed to be three-and-a-half until Dean was three-and-a-half—it was a rule. Hazel was pretty in the way Mommy was pretty, except she didn't look anything like Mommy. Mommy's hair was yellow (Daddy called it "blonde", but Dean knew his colors—it was yellow) and her face was kinda paper-colored, like Dean's and Daddy's. Hazel had a chocolatey face—not dark chocolate, which Dean thought was yucky, but like hot chocolate with lots and lots of milk—and chocolatey hair, like a Hershey bar, which was Dean's favorite. Mommy's eyes were the same color as Dean's blue toy car, while Hazel's were yucky dark chocolate. Seeing Hazel often made Dean hungry.

The first time Dean met Hazel's Mommy, he didn't actually know that she was _Hazel's Mommy_. He'd met Hazel before, because she was in his class at preschool, but he'd never seen her mommy because girls and boys got picked up from preschool separately (Dean learned that word at school. It meant "not at the same time"). Hazel was special at school because she wasn't like any of the other girls. She didn't scream when she saw a little green bug, like Amanda C. She didn't sit on the swings all of recess and stare at everybody, like Amanda P. She didn't jump up and down right next to Dean's head during naptime, like Amandas F., H., and Z. (there were a lot of Amandas at Dean's preschool). And most of all, she wasn't just plain weird like Makayla A., who kissed Amanda S. right on the face.

No. Hazel was special. Dean liked Hazel. But he never would've guessed that he could like her mommy even more.

On the day before his third-and-a-halfth birthday, Mommy took Dean across the street to show him where she got the pie.

"Where are we going, Mommy?" Dean asked excitedly, jumping up and down a little bit as she grabbed his hand to cross the street. Mommy had never told Dean why she had to hold his hand when they crossed the street, but Dean's friend Bruce at school said it was because mommies and daddies got eaten by evil fairies if they walked where the cars went without holding their kid's hand. Dean wasn't sure if he believed Bruce, but it made the most sense out of anything else people at school had thought of (for example: Barry's idea that cars were evil monsters that ate children if they weren't holding their mommy or daddy's hand? No way that one was true). But Mommy always looked happier when Dean held her hand, so he never questioned it.

"We're getting the pie for your birthday, remember?" Mommy told him, smiling down at him. Dean was glad that Mommy was happy today. The night before, Daddy yelled about how Dean didn't need pie when it was only his _half_ birthday, but Mommy yelled back that half birthdays were very important to children, especially at Dean's school. Dean agreed with her, but he couldn't explain that to Daddy. He'd had to start crying to get them to stop yelling. But at least Mommy was happy now. And Dean was getting pie. That was always good.

"I didn't know the pie came from across the street," Dean said. "That's cool."

Mommy shook her head in that slow way that she always did before crossing the street. Dean used to think it meant she was saying no to whatever he'd just said, because Dean was almost always talking right before they crossed the street, but Amanda C. from school told him once that she was pretty sure mommies had special powers that made them say no to the cars, because there were never any cars on the street when people crossed it. Dean thought that sounded pretty cool, but he also thought he would've known if his mommy had superpowers.

They crossed the street and reached the big house with the purple windows. Dean looked around for the telltale signs of a little boy living there—he'd never been to this house before and he wanted to know if Mommy was gonna make him a new friend.

He saw a tricycle, just like Dean's, but it was pink, which was usually a bad sign. It was nothing for sure, though. Dean's trike was green, after all, which (as Dean had _told_ Daddy multiple times) was actually a very girly color when you thought about it.

There was one dolly sitting on the porch, but its head had been ripped off, and it was sitting upside-down in a black toy car that looked just like Daddy's big car.

"Mommy, Mommy, look." Dean tugged on Mommy's sleeve and pointed at the car. Mommy made a frowny face at the toy and pulled Dean away from it. Dean didn't know why. He thought it looked pretty cool. Maybe it had been on the street. Mommy never let him touch things on the street (especially candy). Daddy, on the other hand… Dean would have to bring him to come look later.

Mommy pressed the button next to the door that made the ringing sound. Dean jumped a little as the loud noise reached his ears. He liked his house's button the best. Mainly cause no one really used it. They just knocked. Dean wasn't sure why.

Footsteps sounded from inside the house and someone shouted, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" except they said weird like they didn't know what it was supposed to sound like.

Dean made a frowny face, because it had sounded like a girl, and he didn't want to make friends with a girl. But then he realized it _could_ be a boy. Bruce sounded like a girl sometimes, when he wasn't trying to sound like his daddy.

The loud scrape of a chair being pulled in front of the door was soon followed by another weird-sounding shout. "_¡Mamí! ¡Puerta! …¡Sí! ¡La señora!_"

After a pause, the door opened just a bit, and there she was. "Hi, lady," she said quietly, looking up nervously at Mommy.

Mommy smiled and bent down so she was smaller—Dean never understood why she did that when she talked to other kids, but they seemed to like it, despite how weird it was, so Dean never told her to stop.

"Hello, dear. Is your mother home?"

The little girl started to nod, but then she seemed to notice Dean, and her chocolatey eyes widened. "I know you!" she shouted accusingly.

Dean gasped and tugged at Mommy's sleeve again. "Mommy, she goes to my school!"

Mommy smiled big. "Why, yes, dear. Dean, this is Hazel."

Dean barely heard her. He was too much in shock. _This_ was where they got the pie? From _Hazel_? Hazel D. from _school_? _Normal _Hazel?!

Dean couldn't believe it. Something was wrong—it had to be. This was just a rule of life—normal people weren't supposed to make really good pies! It just didn't seem _right_!

"Hazel, do you know my son Dean?" Mommy continued.

Hazel nodded. "I like your daddy's car."

Dean grinned. Maybe this girl was okay. He liked Daddy's car too.

Mommy stood up tall again and looked past Hazel into the house. "Is your mom home, Hazel dear? I need to ask her something."

Hazel nodded and moved her big chair so Dean and Mommy could come inside. "_¡Mamí! ¡Está la señora para el pay con un chico de mi escuela!_"

Someone shouted back from the back of the house, _"¡Sí, mija, yo sé! ¡Un momento!_"

Hazel shut the door and turned to Dean. "Wanna come to my room?"

Dean looked up at Mommy, who nodded happily. Dean turned back to Hazel and moved his shoulders up and down, like he'd seen Daddy do. He didn't really know what it meant, but he knew it didn't mean yes or no, it just kinda meant both…

"Go on upstairs, sweetie," Mommy said, pushing him forward. "Go play."

As Dean followed Hazel up the big stairs in the middle of her house, he thought about that word. "Play." He didn't like when Mommy told him to "go play," because very little playing actually got done. Usually Mommy only told Dean to "go play" when he was with people he didn't really know—if he knew them, he'd go play without Mommy having to say a word—and, despite what Mommy seemed to think, it wasn't easy to play with someone you didn't already know. Usually they just played by themselves in awkward silence.

When they reached what Dean assumed to be Hazel's bedroom, Dean was more than a little surprised to see that it was very… un-girly. The walls were a dark blue color, like Daddy's favorite box-shaped coffee mug, and not a single thing in the room was any shade of pink. Dean liked it.

"Are you _sure_ you're a girl?" Dean asked suspiciously as he looked around.

Hazel made a frowny face. "Yeah…"  
Dean moved his shoulders up and down again in acceptance. "Okay."

Hazel sat down on her bed— it didn't have walls like Dean's bed. Mommy said that made Dean safer. Dean just thought it made him cooler. Dean sat on the floor and looked around at Hazel's toys. They mostly looked like his. Dean liked this girl a lot.

The next hour or so was a blur. Dean met Hazel's Mommy—she was really nice and talked funny, even more so than Hazel. He and Hazel played with her cars for awhile and told each other monster stories as the spicy smell of Rosa's Magic Pie drifted up from the kitchen. Mommy came upstairs after awhile with the pie and said it was time to go. As they were leaving, Hazel said something that sparked the true beginning of their friendship.

"I don't wanna call you Dean."

Dean made a frowny face at her. "What do you mean?"

"They call you Dean at school," Hazel explained. "You're different at school."

Dean moved his shoulders up and down. He didn't really know what that meant, but he didn't know how to ask. Instead, he said, "My mommy calls me Deanie sometimes."

Hazel shook her head. "No. That's special. We need something of our own. I'll think of something."

The next day at school, Hazel found him at recess and told him, "Happy Half-Birthday, Beanie."

That day, they made a pact. School was different, because at school girls and boys were separate. But at home, they were friends. And everything they did was their own.

When Mommy told Dean he was gonna have a baby brother, Hazel told Dean he needed a special name for her as a promise that he wouldn't like his brother more than her. They each drew a picture of each other and wrote their names on top—Dean and Hazel. Then under that, their nicknames—Beanie and Lezah.

From then on, everything was backwards. Everything was special. Everything was theirs.

The drawing that marked their friendship hung in Dean's room, which then became Sammy's. It burned in the fire that changed Dean's life forever.

**A/N: I hope you liked it. Please review and let me know what you thought!**


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